


Watch - He Smiles

by dunedinparsley, turibasil



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, merlin is jewish gay and Struggling, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunedinparsley/pseuds/dunedinparsley, https://archiveofourown.org/users/turibasil/pseuds/turibasil
Summary: Merlin is not a happy bean, having much trauma after surviving a fairly major event in European history, but Arthur and Crew are determined to help him at least pass his course.





	1. Preface

 Merlin stood. Just stood in front of the mirror, attempting to get up the courage to study his face. He nodded sharply and dragged his eyes away from the wallpaper, trying to follow the line of his cheekbone. He managed to keep his eye on it for a few seconds, his eye jerking around, attempting to hold on to something, his deep blue eyes, pale skin, black hair - but then, as always, his gaze flickered and dragged his head down to where he kept the photo. A fading, sepia photo of two happy people. Their clothes were worn, but their smiles seemed permanent. They looked happy – despite the yellow star on their coats. “Jude,” it proclaimed.

 

They’d smuggled him out, of course. He couldn’t remember any of it, he was barely weaned – he couldn’t even remember the vaguest impressions, like he heard of in most stories. He’d been ten when Gaius had told him. He hadn’t understood, and didn’t take it badly until his teenage years.

 

And now here he was in university, and it was worse than ever. His peers didn’t help - in high school they called him names, now they avoided him, which was more difficult to deal with, somehow. He stayed away from social gatherings. They wondered why he couldn’t look at his reflection, preferred a book to playing football, why he flinched when he so much as saw a gas stove.

 

They’d decided that he was a vampire who had encountered a witch in a wood. That explained why he didn’t eat often – being fattened up would make anyone steer clear of large amounts of food, they reasoned.

 

He still did Hanukah, but hadn’t told anyone or celebrated it with anyone else.  People pretended they were being accepting, make it seem that they had learned something. Made it seem that the world had improved, but he still wasn’t accepted, not really. His background wasn’t accepted; his beliefs weren’t welcome – there were things he’d never told anybody that definitely wouldn’t be appreciated. So his Hanukah was quiet and small, a private affair.  

 

‘He has a delicate constitution.’ That’s what the doctors said. That was the limit to their exertions. They didn’t want to deal with him, really. They just passed him off as being worried by the news. Nothing serious, nothing that could affect his day-to-day interactions, his education.

 

“Why can’t I see? Why can’t I see my own face? Two seconds, all I -” Merlin said, too loudly, his voice breaking. “That affects me.”  He whispered now, gripped the side of the wash-basin, tears falling into it. He’d mastered _that_ art, at least. The tears avoided his clothes and his eyes didn’t redden anymore.

 

He always felt that he couldn’t live up to his parents – the typical complaint. He felt that he wasn’t worth it – again typical, but it didn’t make him feel any better, knowing that.  

 

 _There are good things in my life, there are, there are_ , he thought, desperately. Perhaps repetition would make it true. He was, despite himself, enjoying the university work. Also, there was a man, the only person in his class who would meet his eyes, a new experience for Merlin. Occasionally the man would smile at him, ask him whether he was feeling decent today or talk about the latest paper. All the other kids in his class were exactly that, kids, but this man was different. They were still trapped in high school, their priorities skewed, not valuing the importance of their work. This man seemed to value every snippet of knowledge handed to him, went about his classes with determination. The only way to describe him, without knowing his name, was as, well, a man. He seemed so together, so confident – physically and emotionally. Not that Merlin took great notice of his physicality, or at least he told himself that he didn’t, but the man seemed so solid and golden – making others seem pale and uncertain, wraithlike. He was present, and the children around him were distant, unconnected. Merlin didn’t know his name. He had almost caught the last name one time – Pentywagon, or something – but the man was private about it. He was more private about his last name than his first, and Merlin didn’t even know what that was.

 

Merlin smiled. A small smile, but a smile. This man distracted him, made him think about something other than his parents, how disgusting he felt, for the first time in a month. With that thought, he felt selfish. He rubbed his eyes suddenly, splashed his face and decided to find out the man’s full name. He had done this same thing for about 5 months straight – thought of the man, felt selfish and determined to find out more about him – but he always felt like complete crap by the middle of the month.

 

 _This time would be different_ , Merlin thought firmly, ignoring the fact that he’d said that at the beginning of every month since he’d first noticed him. Lucky his emotional cycle coincided with the calendar, he thought, smiling a little. He could plan his homework around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I like history and can really churn out the angst. Arthur's introduced next chapter and he's a lot happier. (This co-author stuff is payback for Parsley's far superior fic which, in reality, I have little to do with)


	2. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur chats to our young hero - they're both very nervous, and a nearby professor is fed up, having seen this a dozen times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lads - over a year later and this chapter is updated with some of that fresh, spicy content with added Plot Intrigue (I completely forgot I had posted this small segment, this new bit is considerably less crap)

Arthur frowned. That fellow in his class always looked so damn sad. He never talked. When Arthur tried to communicate the man would look into a window - and see his reflection. His face would twist, attempting to shut down intruding guilt or messy thoughts. He was doing fine in class despite that - he was the best of them all, really. This fact was often repeated in Uther’s weekly briefs, which made Arthur’s absence of resentment toward the man even stranger. The only area in which he was lacking was participation - questions in tutorials, collaboration in study - something Uther found time to crow over.

The core of the problem, Arthur considered, was the man’s resolute opposition to conversion. Lucky, then, that the bridge between pass and fail had never relied on group work.

Damn.

The thought seemed to echo around the room as Arthur remembered why he was thinking about the man. Uther’s last letter had been almost unbearably snide, celebrating that the ‘dirty little boy will finally get his comeuppance - since you don’t seem willing to do anything about the upstart.’

A research paper, to be completed through the rigour of academic collaboration.

The sentence seemed almost a death knell for the man - Arthur could hardly imagine there would be anything else of significance in his life beyond his dedication to academia. He had known that that man’s luck would run out eventually.

He looked around his bland apartment, colourful but lacking in entertainment, searching for a distraction. Shockingly, nothing presented itself. He needed a project, something to mold, an adventure.

Perhaps even a rescue.

Arthur could think of only one man who seemed in desperate need of rescuing.

*

The folding chairs that surrounded the podium were cold, and uncomfortable. The lecturer, chalk screeching, droned on about something mathematical - Arthur couldn’t quite tell what. Finally, her mouth stilled. Eyes still glazed over, Arthur turned in his seat.

“Hello,” he began.

“I am fine, thank you. And yourself?” Merlin replied quickly. The rituals of conversation existing between them had become a matter of reflex.

“Fine.” Arthur smirked in response. “Now I have to think of something else to say.”

The lecturer stood at the door, tapping her keys against her leg impatiently.

“How about we walk to the coffee store around the corner while I think of a new conversation topic?” Arthur blurted out. He knew he was breaking a boundary, and watched carefully. Merlin looked uncertain.

“I need to get home, first. Put these books down, for a minute. It isn’t far.” A faint note of pleading entered Merlin’s voice. He needed to check on Gaius, and let Gaius check on him.

“I’ll walk you.”

Merlin drew in a breath. He didn’t know how to say that he didn’t want Mr. Pentywagon to go to his house, to see where he lived. The thought made his chest feel cold, fear worming through him. Thoughts collapsed over each other in his head.

_He’s probably never been to the poor side of Albion. What will he think of me? What if he hates my house? What if he never speaks to me again?_

Merlin had not yet made up his mind that he would be sorry to never hear from Arthur again.

“Some of the way,” Arthur continued, seeing Merlin’s hesitation, “Just tell me where to stop and you can go the rest of the way alone.” _Oh god, he thinks I hate him, he thinks I’m strange._ “Then we can go to the coffee shop. I need to talk to you about the next assignment.”

_University. It will be about university. That will be fine._

“That’s fine," Merlin repeated, aloud this time, attempting to solidify the wisps of positive thought and somehow make them real.


	3. Coffee and Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chatting in a coffee shop - a classic fic staple - is given a tired rehash here as Merlin battles anxiety and Arthur battles being a massive prat to try to offer his help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to post this new chapter on the 13th of Dec 2017 because it would have been a full year since an update (for which I am sorry) but now it's a year a month and two days since the last update (again, so very sorry) which is much less pleasant in terms of synchronicity but Merlin and Arthur are back and they're struggling!!!!!

Merlin retraced his steps, back to where he’d left Mr. Pentywagon. Perhaps now would be the opportunity to fulfil his monthly goal. He couldn’t exactly call him 'Mr. Pentywagon' to his face. He halted, almost exactly ten paces away from Mr Pentywagon, and stiffly threw his arm forward as the man offered up his own - possibly the most awkward handshake yet performed.

 

“We haven’t been introduced, I’m…”

 

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced properly...” Arthur’s voice was more confident than Merlin’s, but he faltered when he realised Merlin was also attempting to speak.

 

“You first.”

 

“No, no - after you.”

 

Arthur noticed the man’s blue eyes crinkle around the edges and his long chin lift slightly. It was the most relaxed he’d ever seen him.

 

“Well, my name’s Arthur.”

 

“I’m Merlin.”

 

They shook hands and bowed slightly.  

 

“To the coffee shop?” Arthur questioned. Merlin nodded .

 

*

 

They sat down, the quiet bustle of a crowded city coffee shop enveloping them. Their seat was similar to a park bench, wooden and rustic, but covered with a crisp tablecloth. A small potted plant - Arthur saw it merely as a mass of green, but Merlin recognised it as an  Adiantum, or maidenhair fern - acted as as comforting barrier between the pair. 

 

“Do you actually want coffee?” Arthur spoke abruptly, before the silence lurking between them became too loud. The fern was no longer secure enough. They picked up the menus, perfectly synchronised, hiding their faces. 

 

“I do.” Merlin’s menu shook a little, and he quickly turned the page. 

 

Time passed. The menu had never been so carefully scrutinized. 

 

“I think I also want cake.” 

 

“That’s a really good idea. I’ll get one as well.” Arthur half-tossed the menu across the table. He didn’t notice Merlin take his and Arthur’s menu into a tidy pile at the edge of the table, within easy reach of the waiter. 

 

“Okay.” Merlin’s treacherous mind began to fill the silence with questions, and so he rushed his next words. “D-do you remember the first time you spoke to me?”

 

“I think so. Hadn’t you fallen over, and I helped you up?” Arthur seemed to think this small gesture was extraordinary. 

 

“You asked if I was okay. First thing I heard you say to me. Up until then I honestly thought you were a bit of a prat.” As soon as these involuntary words entered the space between them Merlin stilled and blushed, focusing on anything but what he feared would be Arthur’s furious face.  

 

“I’ve heard I give off that impression.” Arthur said with a snort. 

 

“But now - you’re helping me with my education?” 

 

“Oh, yes. Why don’t we eat first?”

 

“Food first, smarts later - sounds perfect to me.” Merlin smiled proudly, having made Arthur smirk. 

 

“Me too, I imagine,” he responded. “You know, you’re chattier than I expected.”

 

“Well, when I make an effort and there aren’t three million people in the same building as I am I think you’ll find me a tad looser. Thanks.” Merlin said to the waiter as he placed their order on the table. “Smells amazing.”

 

“Smells okay.” Arthur spoke abrubtly, “Anyway, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

“What, food?” Merlin frowned as he began to cut into the cake. 

 

“No, people.” Arthur took in a deep breath. “This may come off a little rude, but I’ve noticed that you’re not exactly comfortable in groups.”

 

Merlin shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “That’s a fair assessment.” 

 

“Well, speaking of assessments, I overheard some of the professors talking and – “

 

“It’s a group assessment, isn’t it ? ” Merlin interrupted, his face blank. 

 

“Well, yes. And sometimes, in special cases, they allow smaller groups, or for people to request being in a particular group. And I have a few friends in our course, and I think you’d get to be fairly comfortable with them – they each do their fair share of the work, so there’s nothing to worry about there – and with how you seem to be, well, I think if we all request the group it could go through. The professors know me, they like me alot, and they may have noticed your problem - not that it is a very large issue, I think this idea could bring it under control - Gwen is just lovely. You will like her a lot, and the lads are a lot of fun - probably seem a lot less like pratts. You could even find some friends - or new friends, rather.” 

 

Arthur was trying to speak calmly, rationally, but kept darting nervous glances to Merlin to see if he could tell that Arthur was babbling. Merlin sat back, oblivious for the moment to Arthur’s gaze .  His head screamed at him, offering hundreds of different questions about Arthur’s offer. 

 

_ He thinks I’m that pathetic, but I never asked for his help, what does he have to gain, what reason could he possibly have for wanting me around, what motives do his friends have, who are these friends, why do they want me around, am I even capable of making that request, does it involve paperwork, what sort of paperwork? This isn’t possible.  _

 

Merlin’s hand was starting to shake, so he picked up his coffee and brought it to his lips, focusing his mind on the way his mouth moved to take each sip, which muscles in his arms worked to put the cup down, what exactly his taste-buds were trying to tell him. 

 

“There’s no hurry, they probably won’t officially announce the task for a few weeks.” Arthur’s voice was sharp, determined. “The group will meet before then. You will get used to them.”

 

Merlin had jumped when Arthur started talking, spilling a little coffee on his deep blue shirt. Rubbing at it, distracted, he replied, “That sounds fine.” 

 

Arthur didn’t let his emotions rise to the surface, but he felt relief. His first move had succeeded, and perhaps his victory was not that far off. His next words were brisk, businesslike.

 

“How will I get in touch with you?”

 

“Um…”

 

“Actually, I know the owner here. A… distant relation. It seems a convenient spot for the both of us, a fair distance, reasonably anonymous. My connections make it easy - we exchange messages through her. Yes?” 

 

Merlin breathed slightly deeper in relief, having avoided telling Arthur his address. 

 

“That sounds great,” he said, a little too loud, and Arthur smiled. 

 

“Well, I will see you in class.” 

 

“I assume so.” With Merlin’s nod, Arthur rose to his feet and reached for his jacket. 

 

“I’ll get the bill.”

 

“Pardon? No, I can pay.” Merlin’s mind began to scream again, his brow furrowing. 

 

_ He knows how poor I am and he hates me for it, he hates me for it - or maybe this is pity. Oh, he pities me!  _

 

Arthur, wanting to rush through this moment, inevitably awkward, found no time to explain that his strict sense of propriety meant that he was obliged to pay for his companion’s meal. He had the money for it. What was he going to do with the cash in any case? It was only proper, but Merlin seemed to be shrinking back again. He would not accept Arthur’s reasoning, so he considered an excuse that Merlin would allow.

 

“I take turns in this place, no matter who I come in with, if that makes sense, and it is my turn.”

 

Merlin paused. Truth be told, he wasn’t certain he could afford this meal, and could not stand the agony of tipping the piles of small bronzed pennies onto the table and counting through them slowly. “If you’re sure.” 

 

“Definitely. Until next time?”

 

“Yes, I’ll say hello. Uh, and, uh, goodbye?” 

  
“Goodbye." Arthur rushed out of his seat, paying Morgana’s assistant on his way out the little wooden door.   


**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I like history and can really churn out the angst. Arthur's introduced next chapter and he's a lot happier. (This co-author stuff is payback for axelnathaniel's far superior fic which, in reality, I have little to do with)


End file.
